Trust
by Shrrgnien
Summary: Jemima /knows/ that Quaxo is nothing like his father; Demeter's not so sure. When tempers boil over on all sides, Jemima flees to a lonely part of the Junkyard, wondering why her family is so afraid of things they don't understand.


**Trust**

"You trust Victoria, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Demeter sighed. "Victoria's never been anything but the perfect Jellicle queen. Mistoffelees, on the other hand…"

"He's her-"

"I am well aware that he's her brother." Demeter was trying very hard not to yell; it was essential to make her daughter understand what she was saying. "That does _not_ mean he's any less dangerous, and I don't want you around that tom!"

Jemima bristled. "Tugger trusts him," she retorted. At Demeter's raised eyebrow, she admitted, "All right, that was a bad example. But dad trusts him, too. Isn't that good enough?"

"Munkustrap's job is to protect the tribe, Jem, including Misto," said Bombalurina, who had come looking for her sister and taken her side in the argument. "That doesn't mean he trusts him." The scarlet queen didn't look like she was enjoying this argument; there was a flicker or doubt in her eyes, like she wasn't at all sure of what she was saying. But nobody knew better than Bombalurina that her sister knew Macavity more than any other cat, and if Demeter saw signs of his father in the Jellicle conjurer…

Jemima gave a low hiss. "Quaxo-"

"-Is a magician!" Demeter exclaimed. "Jemima, you're still young and foolish if you can't understand that! He's Macavity's son-"

"He is _nothing_ like him," Jemima said, voice low and burning with conviction. "You don't know him like I-"

"We know his type, Jemima, and I know the signs. Conjurers are too powerful to take chances with, and you can never completely trust them. Trust, Jemima. That's the difference between love and lust, kit_, _and when you're older you'll understand that." Jemima tried to hide the flash of pain at being dismissed so easily. She wasn't technically a queen yet, and with her small size and huge eyes, she was still treated like an infant. "You may be a queen soon, but you're still young; and if you can't tell the difference between love and a kitten's infatuation, you're a young fool."

Jemima's small claws unsheathed, fur standing on end. "Just because Macavity abused his power doesn't mean everyone will! If you just gave him a chance-"

"-He'd follow in his father's pawprints!" Finally, the golden queen's temper exploded. "If we gave him a chance to show his true colors, are you sure you'd like what they turned out to be? If I have to sleep with one eye open to stop another Macavity from coming into power, I'll do it, and when you're older you'll thank me for it." Demeter's tail lashed her flanks furiously, and she turned and stalked out.

This was too much. "For the love of Bast!" Jemima pulled herself up to her rather unimpressive full height and turned on her aunt. "He saved Old Deuteronomy! How can you not trust him?"

"He _claims_ he saved Old Deuteronomy," said Bombalurina uneasily. "Dem—and I for one think she has a point—thinks it was a bit _too_ easy. For all we know, Macavity let him 'rescue' our leader so we would trust his son. It…" She hesitated. "It…may be too late for Misto, Jemima. He may be his father's already."

This accusation struck Jemima somewhere so deep she hadn't known the place existed. The unexpected pain fueled her furious cry. "You're both being stupid and prejudiced, Bomba, and you're _wrong_! Just like…just like you were wrong about Grizabella! And I don't care what my mom thinks. Quaxo's never hurt her and he never will, because he's a better Jellicle than she'll ever-"

"That's enough out of you!" snarled Bombalurina, and she whirled and clawed Jemima across the face.

There was a sudden silence in the den. Jemima shrank back into the shadows, eyes even wider than usual. Bombalurina was just as shocked as the trembling queen-kitten at the thin stripes running along her cheek. "Jemima…" she stuttered, "I didn't mean…"

Jemima cut her off with a loud hiss of wounded pride. "I may be young and foolish," she said resentfully, "but I know when I'm being lied to. You meant every word, so don't tell me you didn't." Without another word, she pushed past her aunt and into the Junkyard.

It was almost unnaturally still outside the den. The patrols were around somewhere, she knew, but she couldn't see them. Jemima was grateful for this as she wandered aimlessly through the Junkyard. Even if there was only half a moon cycle until the Jellicle Moon, when she would become a queen, she was still technically a kitten, thus she was breaking curfew.

Springing lightly up a tire mountain, Jemima tucked herself into the topmost tire and curled up miserably, wishing the moon was full. Full moons always made her feel better.

Hoping that maybe things would be better in the morning, she closed her eyes and wished to fall asleep.

"Jemima," sighed a familiar voice gently, "You're supposed to be inside."

Jemima's ears perked, and she opened the wide, dark eyes that had never lost their kittenish quality. "I don't want to go back there, Vic," she pleaded. "Please let me stay."

Victoria studied her friend, concerned. All of the patrols were used to Jemima's wanderings once a month; she was notoriously moonstruck. But even then, she always apologized and willingly returned to her den. To have her beg to stay out on a new moon…Victoria's eyes tightened painfully at the most likely cause of her friend's misery. She climbed into the tire and curled up next to her. "What's wrong, Jem?"

Jemima looked over at the pure-white queen, intending to give a mature explanation, like an adult. But when she met Victoria's worried gaze, she crumbled. Blinking back tears, she managed to choke, "There's…There's nothing wrong with your brother!" Then she buried her head in Victoria's shoulder and sobbed.

The sudden raw emotion scared the older queen. Jemima had always been the more sensitive of the kittens, but she had never seen her cry like this. Hesitantly, she said, "I know there's not. What's wrong?"

Taking a deep breath, Jemima rallied, cuddling closer to Victoria for comfort. Her voice breaking slightly, she relayed her argument. Victoria's eyes tightened at some of the things she heard, but when Jemima finished, she just sighed. "Thanks for standing up for Quaxo," she said, rubbing her head affectionately on her friend's shoulder. "Don't think too badly of Bomba for what she said."

"She scratched me," Jemima said suddenly.

"She _what?"_ For the first time, Victoria looked angry.

"I guess I was asking for it," Jemima said regretfully. "But she was saying such horrible things…I just couldn't stand it, Vic!"

Victoria nodded understandingly. "Try not to let it bother you."

"Why are they so scared of things they don't understand?" Jemima asked miserably.

Victoria's heart melted at the innocent wisdom of the question. "I don't know," she said, "but Bomba loves your mother so much, Jem…and after what Macavity did to Demeter…don't you see why they don't trust conjurers?"

"But Quaxo's not Macavity," Jemima said angrily.

"I know," Victoria said, her voice soft. Jemima smiled apologetically and leaned into her friend's snowy side. Victoria licked the little calico between the ears, smiling, then glanced up as Alonzo leaped soundlessly up the tires beside them.

"Everything all right?" he asked, glancing the two young queens over. "Need me to get Munk?"

"We're fine," Victoria answered. "I was just taking Jem inside."

"What, out already, Jemima?" Alonzo grinned rakishly. "Bit early in the cycle, don't you think? Or were you sneaking out to somewhere in particular? Maybe to some_one_ in particular…"

"She was upset," Victoria said, a bit defensively. Jemima was sensitive about her budding relationship with Quaxo, and now was the wrong time for her to be teased about it.

Alonzo looked down at Jemima, registering her tearstained cheeks for the first time. "Hey," he said, gently lifting her head with his paw. "The Jellicle Ball is almost here; that should be enough to cheer anyone up! Why, you'll be a queen this Moon, too, won't you?"

"Yes," she said softly. As if Alonzo had to ask; everyone knew that their Protector's daughter, Old Deuteronomy's youngest descendent, was coming of age this moon. Which was why it was ridiculous to act as if she needed to be protected from herself, she didn't add.

"Fancy that. And it seems just yesterday you were getting all excited over catching your first mouse. Picked out a mating dance yet?"

Embarrassed, Jemima muttered something about how she didn't need one.

Grinning, Alonzo cuffed her shoulder lightly. "No? Well, why sneak out here then, if not to rendezvous with some lucky tom?" He laughed, not unkindly, at her dramatic blush. When Victoria gave a small laugh as well, Alonzo raised an eyebrow. "I lost count of all the times I caught Victoria here breaking curfew with Plato," he added casually, and laughed again as Victoria began blushing herself.

"Jem had a bit of a falling-out with Demeter," she said in an attempt to change the subject. She regretted her choice of conversation topic when Jemima curled more tightly around herself, but it was too late to take the words back.

Alonzo's eyes took on a strange look. "I heard the beginnings of that earlier. In any case, Jemima, I have a question."

Jemima shifted uncomfortably. "I'd rather not talk about what caused it."

Alonzo shook his head. "And I'd rather not hear about it. None of my business. What I want to know," he said seriously, holding Jemima's gaze, "is why a Jellicle queen is running away from her problems."

Some of the pride and defiance she had inherited from her father flashed in Jemima's eyes, but she mostly looked confused. She hadn't seen it that way before.

"I'm not running away," she said falteringly.

Victoria rested her head on top of Jemima's, purring softly. "I told you she was just going back."

The spotted tom tussled Jemima's fur affectionately. "Atta girl," he said. "And you'd best run along now, Jem. If your father finds out I let you wander the Junkyard at night, he'll have my tail." At her unhappy sigh, he laughed outright. "I know. Just look at it this way: half a moon cycle, and you can forget about curfew. For now, get back to your den."

Jemima hesitated, looking thoroughly miserable again. "I…I don't want to go back," she admitted. "Vic, can't I stay in your den tonight?"

Victoria shook her head reluctantly. "Nobody's home, and until you're a queen you're not allowed to be alone at night." Her ears suddenly pricked. "What about Electra?"

Alonzo nodded approvingly. "Good a compromise as any," he decided. "Come on, Jemima, I'll walk you there." As she stretched reluctantly and picked her way down the tires, he grinned. "Don't want you getting lost on the way. Isn't Misto's place between here and your sister's?"

Jemima blinked rapidly, and her breathing visibly sped. "Oh!" she squeaked. "We…we…I…well, I never…"

"…_Was there ever a cat so clever_…" chorused Alonzo innocently. Jemima gave another incomprehensible squeak and hurried off as fast as she could move, a laughing Alonzo at her heels, but Victoria thought she saw the hint of a smile on the young queen's lips before she squeezed between two boxes and was gone.

There was a rustle as Plato jumped up next to her. "I heard Alonzo laughing," he said curiously. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Victoria gave an exasperated sigh. "No, not really. Jemima's family is just trying to ensure my brother dies bitter and alone is all."

Plato cocked his head, looking at the place where Jemima had vanished. "I don't think there's much fear of that, Vic."

And two weeks later, watching Quaxo and Jemima sing a soft, tender duet—chosen in lieu of the sensual traditional mating dance—there wasn't a cat under the moon who could disagree with the statement.

**A/N:** **For further information on how the argument got started, and how it all ended, see "Rainy Days"; this is basically a deleted scene from that fic.**


End file.
